Page 71 of Ripping the Odds

“I know it’s normally Mak’s area of expertise, but could you look into Daria’s ex for me?”

What are you up to, Prudence Turner?

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Where he is.”

“Anything else?”

“Who he owes money to and how much.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thank you, Dimitri. Oh, and maybe don’t mention anything to Daria.”

“Gotcha.”

He covertly glanced at me, and I gave him a quick chin lift. I knew Dimi was already looking into the ex situation, but with our unspoken conversation came the understanding that he’d come to me first with anything he found. Not that I’d hide anything from Pru, only soften the blow if necessary.

Once breakfast was in the books and my queen was assured Dimi wasn’t on his death bed, he excused himself under the guise of needing to go to work. His lie was greatly appreciated. It allowed me to convince Pru to come back to bed with me and not to sleep. We made love until we fell asleep in each other's arms, exhausted and sated.

Hours later, we hit the grocery store. Bread, milk, and toilet paper were at the top of the list, not because we needed it, but because Pru said that’s what you bought when a major storm was about to hit. I didn’t argue which was why we almost needed a second SUV to haul all of the shit home.

It was after dinner when we were lying on the couch watching TV, when a thought slammed into me out of nowhere.

I want to marry this woman.

Not today, not tomorrow, but soon. Really soon. I knew she was my future, I just hadn’t known exactly what that would look like. That wasn’t the case any longer. It was as clear as the images flashing through my mind. Pru in a white dress. Pru with a hand on her round belly. A wedding, a baby, I wanted it all. The question was, did she?

Shifting so we were on our sides facing each other, I kissed her. Not hard and fast. Not slow and deep. Just pressed my lips to hers and held while I breathed her in. One heartbeat. Two. Breaking the kiss, I leaned my forehead against hers.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Zak.”

“Marry me.”

“What?” She yelled, jolting back so quickly I had to grab her waist to keep her from falling off the couch. I hadn’t expected that reaction. I also hadn’t meant to propose on our couch without the damn ring. I was fucking this up.

“Shit, baby. Take it easy.”

“Don’t you ‘shit, baby’ me. Zakhar Vlaschenko, did you just ask me to marry you?”

“Technically, I didn’t ask a question. I made a statement.”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “So you don’t want an answer?”

“I would love one, yes.”

“Then you should ask a question.”

Jumping off the couch, I held up a finger. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

I sprinted up the steps and down the hallway to my home office. On the bookshelf sat a small safe. After punching in the six-digit code, I reached inside, pulled out the small black box, and hauled ass back downstairs before she had too much time to think. She was sitting up when I got back.

Dropping to one knee, I opened the black box. Inside was a two-carat emerald cut diamond with two small rubies on either side on a platinum band. “This was my mother’s. It’s the only thing I have left of hers, and I’d be honored if you’d accept it. She would’ve loved you, Pru. More importantly, she would’ve loved you for me.”